Flirtfest 2014
by AlessNox
Summary: Molly is invited to a fancy dinner party, only to find that she is what is on the menu.


Molly was surprised to get the invitation. The Paradise Garden Hotel was new and very expensive. She had only come because Mrs Hudson and said that Sherlock would be there. She asked at the desk, and was escorted upstairs in a fancy glass elevator. When it stopped, she was led down the hall to another gold-lined elevator that required a key, and taken to the door of the penthouse suite.

It was so bizarre. Why would someone like her be invited to a party that was obviously so fancy? Perhaps she should have bought a new dress. She was wearing a puffy blue dress that was very short. It had looked amazing in the catalog, but with her flat chest and her too thin legs, it made her look a bit like a pudding. She had made up with an over abundant use of red lipstick and some awesome shoes, so she was alright, that is until they opened the door and she saw the room, all crystal and white satin with plush white couches. It seemed at first that there was no one here, until a servant in black came forward and took her coat. Another asked if she needed a drink. Perhaps she was the first to arrive.

It was then that she saw Mrs Hudson on the other side of the room standing next to a shapely woman in black. Molly walked toward them, and the beautiful brunette woman turned. She was busy texting away on her phone. She looked up briefly. "Ms Hooper, so you've arrived, good. Please, go out to the patio, they'll be with you shortly."

Molly walked toward the glass doors, turning back to wonder what was happening. Mrs Hudson waved, and then motioned for her to go on. Servants rushed forward to open the doors for her, and she passed out of the suite into a beautiful garden with an absolutely amazing view of the city. It was night, and the lights glowed brighter than the stars. She walked forward and looked around amazed.

A few moments later, she noticed a tall figure by her side. She turned and looked up into the grey-green eyes of Sherlock Holmes.

"Hello Molly," he said. His voice a deep baritone that rumbled through her bones like an earthquake.

"Sherlock, I didn't hear you. Um...beautiful night isn't it?"

"I suppose. You look very well today."

Molly blushed looking down at her shoes. "Thank you."

"And your lips. They don't look as thin as they usually do. And the dress, conceals the five pounds that you have gained since the loss of your old boyfriend...mmm...Tom?"

"I've only gained three pounds."

"No, five."

Molly frowned. "Are you here alone today? Where's John?"

"Oh, he's around. Your shoes are very attractive. Halston aren't they? A few seasons out of date, but quite flattering. Detracts from the shortness of your legs."

"Sherlock, you're flattering me. What is it that you want?"

"Why would you assume that I want something from you?"

"Because you always do."

Sherlock's phone beeped then and he frowned. He read the message and then stared down at her with an intense stare that began to make her legs go weak. Then he said, "I'm off," and walked away.

.

Molly was still feeling a bit shaky, so she walked over to a bench and sat down. When she heard the sound of footsteps, she put her knees together and to the side, pulling the hem of her dress down over her knees. She looked up. "John! Sherlock just left."

John was dressed in a white dress shirt and a soft blue jumper. He wore jeans which fit him very well. He also wore a roguish smile. "Did he now? Good thing that I wasn't looking for him. Do you mind?"

He motioned to the bench, and she moved aside to let him sit. He sat down and then stretched his arm along the bench behind her. They sat for a moment in silence before Molly noticed a light touch on her far shoulder. John had placed his hand there, and was now drawing slow circles on her shoulder with his fingertips. She looked over at his hand, and then looked at his face. He was staring out at the garden. His ankle balanced on his knee, the scuffed bottom of his polished leather shoe facing toward her.

Molly was beginning to get a strange feeling about this 'party'. She didn't know what was going on, but she felt that she must surely be the butt of someone's joke, and she was having none of it.

"How's Mary?" she said.

A smile crossed his lips and vanished. "She's fine."

"And the baby? Is she doing well?"

"Yes, they're both fine."

"Good."

She turned her head to look at John's hand again which was now rubbing up and down her shoulder. She turned around and said, "John..." only to freeze in her tracks as he pulled her toward him grabbing her chin with one hand as he looked into her eyes. "The city lights reflecting from your eyes may be the most beautiful thing that I've ever seen."

Molly's mouth hung open. No one had ever said such a thing to her. She knew that this was probably not true, but she was caught in the moment as one of John's fingers began to slowly stroke the side of her face. He licked his lips and then stared at hers possessively. She breathed in to tell him to stop, but he leaned forward and breathed on the side of her neck surprising her so much that the words stuck in her throat. Then he moved her face next to his again and her hands tensed on her bag. His breath smelled of fresh mint.

"I..." she began, but got no further as she watched the way his eyes darted to look at her cleavage. She had never thought of John as attractive before. He was too short, too ordinary, but something told her that she had overlooked some important aspects of him, because despite herself, she found a blush rising across the skin of her chest, and he was watching it. A devilish grin causing his eyes to crinkle in pleasure.

"You know, my wife and I have an... arrangement. If I find someone particularly attractive she doesn't mind. And if you don't mind, I find you..." He looked up and down her body with such blatant approval that she turned as red as a beet, "very desirable."

Molly's heart began to beat like a cornered rabbit. She rose to her feet, almost knocking John onto the floor. "Excuse me, I need to go to the ladies. Sorry." Then she clattered off of the patio looking around nervously before another black-clad servant pointed to a door.

.

The ladies was more a suite than a lavatory. There were couches in rich red velvet and more white satin walls, this time decorated with gold filigree. She walked toward a room lined with mirrors and was going to push open what might have been a toilet or a shower stall when someone stepped out. She was tall wearing stiletto heels of black and white, and she appeared to be clad only in a sumptuous white fur coat that hid none of her long length of legs.

"Oh, hello," she said. "I was hoping that someone would come. Could you please help me? My zipper appears to be stuck."

Molly smiled. This was something that she could deal with. "Of course," she said putting her purse down on the counter as she walked forward.

The woman turned away from her and dropped the fur to the floor. She was wearing a dress, of sorts. It could more likely be called a band of white lace that surrounded her shapely hips in the back and plastered itself over her sides to barely cover her rounded breasts. Molly would kill to have a body like that. There was a zipper on the back, and it hung low, very low, just revealing the crack of her buttocks. And no, she wasn't wearing anything under it.

The woman had crossed her legs gracefully to accentuate her curves and placed her hands on her hips. Her entire back was revealed. Her hair swept up in an elaborate do. Molly zipped her up. The zipper didn't appear to be stuck at all.

"Thank you," the woman said turning suddenly to place an arm on each of her shoulders. She leaned forward and kissed each cheek. Then she appeared to fall off of her precarious heels onto Molly who nearly fell to the ground under her weight. She placed a leg back, and propped the woman up again to find that one of the woman's hands was clutching her behind, while those beautiful exotic lips were against her earlobe. The woman whispered breathily, "And I thank you again. How can I ever repay you?"

Now Molly was sure that something was up. Molly had no illusions about her own attractiveness, or lack thereof. If she did have illusions, Sherlock had long ago shot them down. To have three people come on to her at one party, a party with decidedly few guest, was just too strange to be a coincidence. She pushed the woman away and walked out of the room.

.

Molly stood in the middle of the expensive penthouse with her hands on her hips. "Come out, you! The joke is over. Come out right now! Sherlock!"

They approached slowly. Sherlock at least had the good sense to look a bit sheepish.

"Alright, someone tell me what's going on."

She looked around at the gathered people, Sherlock, John, a woman that she only now recognized as Irene Adler, the brown-haired beauty with the phone, and Mrs Hudson. She frowned at Mrs Hudson. How could she of all people be a part of this? Then she noticed that Mrs Hudson was looking past her. They all were looking at something or someone over her shoulder. She spun around and saw him.

"Jim! I mean James...James Moriarty. I thought that you were dead!"

"Defying death is all the RAGE these days," he said in a singsong voice. He was wearing the newest Westwood in bright blue with a matching signature skull tie. "Good show there Molly resisting the charms three of the most accomplished charmers in England. I bet them that they couldn't pull you. I bet them quite a lot in fact."

"What do you want?"

"Oh, I want a great many things. Respect. Revenge. And the one thing that has always eluded my grasp."

"What is that?"

"Love."

"Love?"

"NAH! I was only joking. I have no need for love. A soft emotion. Sherlock was right, it's a weakness found on the losing side. See how I had them all dancing for me in order to save each other's lives. I have no such weakness, but I do have my pride, and you, Molly Hooper, you surprised the great Moriarty. I cast you away as useless. Let you think that you had dumped me, because I thought that you were unimportant. Unimportant to me, and unimportant to Sherlock. Oh how you fooled me. You helped him escape. I had no idea of your talents.

"I bet them that they couldn't seduce you. I bet them that they couldn't charm you."

"What would they get if they did?"

"Their lives, and yours. My acquiescence to their demands to leave London unharmed."

"And now? What are you going to do now?"

"I haven't decided about London yet, but you. You were once mine, and I reclaim you. Come into my arms, Molly. Your boyfriend is back in town."

He opened his arms and wrapped them around her holding her so tightly that she began to find it hard to breathe. He swung her around and one of her shoes fell off. She stood on her toes then, looking over her shoulder at the others until she caught Sherlock's eye. He motioned with his head toward the large plate glass window, and she raised an eyebrow not understanding. Sherlock rolled his eyes.

"Oh how I've missed you, Molly. So funny, so ordinary, so...breakable."

Molly pulled away then, bending down to recover her shoe. She ran toward the window, leaning against it with one hand as she lifted her foot to place the shoe on.

"You ...you don't mean that you did all of this just for me? No one has ever done anything like this for me."

"I don't suppose that they have, sweet. Such a forgotten, lonely little woman with only the dead as your friends. Well you'll have plenty of friends tomorrow, love. Oodles and Oodles of them!" And he smiled a smile so ghastly that Molly stepped back and covered her mouth almost missing the red bead of light that landed on the side of his head.

Then there was an explosion of glass and the window blew out. Blood shot out of Moriarty's shoulder and she could see Sherlock running toward her, but it was too late. Moriarty had grabbed her arm pulling her body in front of him as he backed away from Sherlock.

"No, Sherlock. No saving anyone today. You're not the only one who knows how to fall."

He grabbed Molly's arms so tight that his fingernails were piercing holes in her flesh. "Sherlock!" She yelled as he pulled her back toward the window. She heard the sound of another gunshot, but Moriarty had already pulled her out through the window, and they were falling, falling, down from the penthouse suite. Down to the cars and concrete below. His hands digging into her arms as she tried to scream only to find that the wind pushed the sounds back into her throat.

"Molly, Molly!"

"What?!" Molly lifted her head from the desk to find herself back in the morgue. "Sherlock? But I thought that you were...you're back?"

"Yes, Molly. Have the bodies come yet?"

"Bodies, what bodies?"

"From the explosion. Weren't you watching the news? I suppose not as you were asleep. I expect that they'll be in momentarily."

Molly rose to her feet. She heard it then, the sound of trolleys being rolled toward the morgue. An accident then. Three carts were rolled in in quick succession and Greg Lestrade walked in behind them. He removed his gloves and came over to Sherlock. "Is this what he means by 'oodles' of them?"

Molly's heart began to race. "Sherlock. Who is doing this? What happened? Tell me what is going on?"

"So you haven't heard, Molly? Moriarty is back."


End file.
